No Greater Love
by criminally charmed
Summary: My view on what could happen in Detroit at the end. Sam must find a way to save the world, his friends and family, oh, and the world. Easy, right? One shot.


**No Greater Love**

**By Criminally Charmed**

_**Disclaimer - Do not own Supernatural. I would never deny the boys any chance of happiness. Proof I am not Kripke. Also, I do not own any property in Detroit. Really.**_

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Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. John 15:13

Sam Winchester slipped into the Mariner's Church of Detroit. Slowly approaching the altar, the younger Winchester brother looked at the cross with trepidation, wondering if he would have the courage if the light of day were shining through those stained glass windows. The city outside looked like something from a post-Apocalyptic vision from some hack Hollywood writer. But the truth was, it was all too real.

And it was all Sam's fault.

First Sam had died. He really hadn't meant to. But Jake had stabbed him in the back – literally – causing him to die in his brother's arms. Dean had been so devastated that he had sold his soul. Bring Sam back to life, and Dean would be Hell's plaything in one year.

Sam had done everything he could. But in the end, his efforts were in vain. Dean had died, ripped to pieces by the Hellhounds. Sam tried anything he could to pull Dean from Hell. He had even offered up his own soul, only to find no one interested.

Dean had finally come back. Deeply scarred emotionally from what, to him, had been forty years in the pit. Sam longed to confess to his brother what he had been up to, what he had been driven to when Dean was in Hell. But Ruby kept convincing him not to, kept telling him that Dean wasn't thinking clearly, that he would not see that what Sam was doing was necessary if they were going to stop Lillith.

Lillith. Ruby. Sam didn't know which demonic bitch he hated more. Lillith for taking Dean from him in the first place or Ruby for leading him down the path to damnation that he had willingly followed.

No – Sam knew who he hated the most. Sam hated himself. And he hated the knowledge that in the next few days, he would be confronted by Lucifer. The Devil himself wanted Sam for a meat-suit. Lucifer claimed that Sam was destined to be his vessel. That as an angel, even a fallen one, Lucifer could only enter Sam if the young man willingly gave himself up to the Devil, body and soul.

Kneeling in front of the altar, Sam bent his head until it rested on the wooden railing. Tears fell from his eyes, trailing to the wood surface before dropping to the stone floor.

"God," Sam prayed in a shaky voice. "I don't know if you are willing to listen to me. Many of your own angels believe you to be dead. I…I just can't. I have to believe you are still there. Please God. Dean, Bobby, Castiel – so many who deserve the promise of tomorrow. The angels believe I was damned from six months old, if not sooner. That I was a lost cause from the moment Mom made the deal."

Sniffling, his shoulders shaking from the sobs he tried to hold in, Sam continued. "It was my fault. I know that. But should the world be damned because of one lost soul?"

"That's a good question, Sam."

Sam jumped as he turned to see a young woman who was walking towards him. Clad in jeans and a chambray shirt, her strawberry blonde hair pulled into a braid trailing down her back, the woman's eyes were sparkling with a light that seemed to come from deep within her. The blue orbs seemed to read every thought, feeling or emotion that Sam had ever felt.

"Who are you?" Sam asked.

The woman smiled gently. "You know who I am, Sam."

"Christo," Sam spat at her.

Shaking her head, she chuckled. "No, but we are related."

"Who are you?!" Sam screamed.

Refusing to flinch or back down, the blonde came closer, pressing a hand against Sam's tear-streaked cheek. "I am the one who is called I am."

"Oh, God," Sam virtually whimpered.

"I'm also called that," God shrugged. "Allah, Mother Earth…Well, the list is endless."

"Why?" Sam whispered.

"You asked for me, Sam."

Pulling himself up, Sam became angry. "I asked for you before. I _begged _for you. Dean was doomed to Hell because of me. He didn't deserve it. HE DIDN'T DESERVE IT!"

The Lord merely smiled at Sam. "Do you know why some angels are jealous of my human children? Because I gave you the most glorious of gifts - I gave you free will." Shaking her head, she smiled. "Dean chose his path. I could not change that."

Sam collapsed to the ground. "God, please – the world doesn't deserve this. Do what you want with me, but stop Lucifer."

God looked sad. "I can't do that, Sam. But you can."

Raising his head, Sam began to cry once more. "How? Whatever it is, I will do it."

"Do you believe in me, Sam?" God whispered to him as she kneeled in front of the devastated man. Sam nodded. "Then I have to ask something of you."

Sam nodded once more as the woman/God bent towards him and whispered in his ear. His eyes went wide as she gave him his instructions. Nodding again, Sam trembled when she kissed his forehead.

"Say it, Sam," she whispered as she knelt in front of him. "You must say the words."

"I will do it, God," he responded. Straightening his shoulders, Sam's hazel eyes were alight with true hope for the first time in years. "I swear it. Thy will be done."

A warmth and a light seemed to fill the cathedral. Sam found himself alone and yet…He knew that at last he was not. Sam stood and walked resolutely from the holy grounds, confident for the first time in months.

* * *

Dean lay on the ground, pain radiating throughout his body. Bobby couldn't get any closer, trapped in his wheelchair, unable to navigate through the rubble. Most of the demons, almost all of the humans, even a few angels lay around them. Sam lay broken and bloody at Lucifer's feet. Sadly, his worst injuries did not come from the Devil. A hunter had grabbed the younger Winchester as he had left the Mariners Church. He had been beaten and tortured until he was on the brink of death.

Rescue had come on two fronts. Dean, Bobby and Castiel on one side – Satan on the other. As the two last demons standing continued to fight the young hunter and the angel, Lucifer leaned over Sam.

"I can stop this all now, Sam. I will heal all your wounds. I will protect your brother. Bobby will walk again. This all can stop now. Just give yourself unto me."

Tears in his eyes, Sam looked at his brother and friends – at his family. Closing his eyes, Sam nodded quickly.

"You must say it, Sam."

"No, Sammy!" Dean screamed as he killed the demon standing in front of him. Stumbling through the rubble, he struggled to make it to his little brother. But then the words came through the air, ripping at his very soul.

"Yes," Sam choked through the blood in his mouth. "I give myself, body and soul, to you."

Lucifer stood, his eyes glowing with an unholy light. Suddenly, the vessel he had been using fell to the ground, and the Devil merged with Sam. Rising once more, Lucifer looked at Dean.

"Oh, Dean…Give it up. I have won." Brushing his hands over Sam's arms, Lucifer smiled. "At last, I am where I should have been all along."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that."

All eyes turned to a young woman standing just behind Bobby. She smiled and held a hand out to him. "Stand, Bobby."

"Lady," the older hunter snapped, "I don't know if ya noticed, but these legs ain't worked in months."

"No, they haven't," she agreed. "Not since you stabbed yourself to save the boy you saw as your son. The demon who had possessed you wanted to use you to kill Dean and you forced him to stab you in order to save Dean."

"Oh, God…" Dean whispered.

"That," Castiel agreed as he approached Dean, having slain the demon with whom he had been fighting, "may be the truth."

Bobby accepted the woman – God's? – hand and felt the most incredible warmth fill him, body and soul. Slowly, shakily, he rose. "Thank god," he whispered.

"You're welcome," God said with a smile as she walked past him, zeroing in Lucifer.

The Devil glared out at the one he once claimed to love above all others. "He gave himself freely to me," Lucifer spat out. "You can do nothing. After all, you gave these mud monkeys _free will._"

"Yes," God agreed. "I did. But I think you and I also agreed upon something years ago. An angel can only take a human vessel if they agree to bind themselves to the angel – body and soul. Samuel Winchester agreed to you with his dying breath. His body had died even as you entered it." Lucifer looked smugly satisfied, an expression that seemed so wrong on Sam's gentle face.

"But," God countered, "he made a separate vow to me."

In that moment, they all seemed to be transported back to the Mariner's Church, as God leaned forward to a tearful Sam. The words God whispered in Sam's ear could now be heard by all.

"_You must give your soul unto me, Sam. Say that your soul is mine and Lucifer will not win. Swear to me, Sam. Give me your soul." _

_Leaning back, she nodded once and spoke again. "Say it, Sam," she whispered as she knelt in front of him. "You must say the words."_

"_I will do it, God," he responded. Straightening his shoulders, Sam's hazel eyes were alight with true hope for the first time in years. "I swear it. Thy will be done."_

"You have the body, Lucifer," God spoke quietly. "But you can not stay. His soul is with me. I have sent him forward." Shaking her head, she stepped closer. "I loved you. You were my morning star, beautiful beyond all measure. Your betrayal cut me deeply." Laying a hand upon Sam's arm, she drew back her head and a cold fury emanated from deep within her.

"You crawled from the pit that I cast you in once before, Lucifer. I cast you there once again. Begone, Satan!"

The words shook the world around them and everyone fell to the ground. They were once more in the debris strewn street. Castiel helped Bobby to rise and they shakily walked to where the Winchester brothers were.

Dean rocked his brother's cold body, tears pouring down his face. "Why?" he whimpered as he held Sam close, just as he had since the day their mother had died. Looking up, his gaze went past his friends and met the sad face of the woman who claimed to be God.

"WHY?!" Dean screamed. "Why my brother? Why Sam? He was a good person."

"Yes," God agreed. "Samuel Winchester is a good soul. He had faith, pure and strong. And he had love. He loved you beyond all measure, just as you love him."

"I…I can't do this, not without my brother," Dean whispered, burying his face in his brother's chocolate locks.

"If you wish it, Dean," she gently said, "you can be with your brother."

Dean looked up. Nodding once, he took the woman's hand before collapsing beside Sam.

"No!" Bobby cried out, struggling his way to the brothers. Touching their rapidly cooling bodies, he looked up at the woman – at God.

"My boys…They – I can't…"

God merely smiled and raised her hands. A golden glow surrounded the three men – two brothers and the father of their hearts. When the glow faded, the Winchesters and Bobby Singer were gone, as if they had never been there.

Turning to Castiel, she smiled. "Castiel. You never lost faith in me. You will stand beside me in Heaven. Your vessel shall return home to his family. Their memories shall all be shifted. Come – I have some house cleaning to do." Looking grim, she nodded. "Shall we start with Zachariah?"

A brief light surrounded Castiel and suddenly Jimmy was standing there, looking confused. "Time to go home, Jimmy." She placed a hand on his head and suddenly the vessel was gone.

God paused for a moment, seeing the death and destruction all around her. With a wave of her hand, the bodies of the fallen vanished. Looking over her shoulder, God nodded towards an alley.

"You can come out, Chuck."

The prophet stumbled forward. "Are…are you really-"

"I am the Lord your God, Chuck. All that happened needed to be. Tell the story. Let all know of the sacrifices made this day, so that they may know and learn. Tell them that they have been saved once more through the love of their fellow man."

In a flash of light, she was gone. Chuck was feeling strong and confident for the first time in years. He had a story to tell…

* * *

Three years later, Chuck was driving through the Midwest, heading to a book signing in Chicago. His former publisher had been hired by a larger publishing house, one that was looking for some fresh talent. They had republished his previous books, and his new ones were selling well. There was talk of a television series and he was consulting on graphic novels being drawn, ones that would tell of the Winchesters' lives before Dean had taken Sam from Stanford, before Jessica Moore's murder.

A multi-car accident had blocked the interstate, and using his GPS, Chuck had veered onto a back road, driving through several small towns. At a rural burg just prior to heading back to the highway, a clunking noise began to rattle his rental car.

"No, no, no..." Chuck groaned as the car echoed his morose sound before dying completely in front of a small diner. Climbing out of the rental, Chuck popped the hood and looked. Actually, he had no idea what he was looking for but it was what men were supposed to do.

"Car broke down, huh?"

The friendly drawl annoyed Chuck. But the friendly face made him almost faint on the spot.

Sam Winchester, the young man whose faith had helped save the world, the man who had _died _for his fellow man, stood before him, hale and whole.

His dimples peaked out as Sam smiled at Chuck. "I'm not much good with cars, much to my family's annoyance, but -"

"Sammy!" A cheerful voice called out, making Sam somehow smile and frown at the same time. Chuck's vision blurred for a moment as Dean loped over to the pair.

"Dean, I was just about to call for you. Car-"

Nudging his brother to the side, Dean chuckled. "Make yourself useful, Teach. My tools are in the back of the truck."

"Truck?" Chuck blurted out. "I, um, can't see you driving a truck. See you more of the muscle car type. Like, maybe a Chevy. An Impala? Like from the late sixties."

"Whoa!" Sam said as he rejoined them, handing his brother his tools. "What are you, psychic? Dean rebuilt a '67 Impala that he found at our Dad's salvage yard. He loves his baby. No woman really had a shot at him, he loves that car so much."

"Well," Dean grumbled as he began to tinker with the engine, "Lisa happens to love my baby, Sam."

Shaking his head, Sam smiled. "Never thought my big brother – expert mechanic, volunteer fireman and local lothario – would fall for our librarian."

Dean grinned as he looked up from under the hood. "Remember the video "Hot for Teacher"?"

"Ugh," Sam groaned. "Come on, Lisa is my wife's best friend. She's gonna be the baby's godmother."

"And how perfect is it that I am marrying my nephew's godmother?"

"It could be a girl," Sam muttered.

"Nope. Dad wants a grandson. I want a nephew. And…Aw, heck. We'll spoil a little girl rotten. She'll get away with more than we ever did. And what do the Singers know about raising a little girl?"

"Singer?" Chuck asked.

"Sorry," Sam chuckled. "I'm Sam Singer. I teach history at the middle school. My older-"

"And better looking," Dean interrupted from underneath the hood.

"My older brother is Dean Singer, he works with our dad and the two are considered the best mechanics in the county. Also, Dean was recently made our volunteer fire chief, proof that even the wildest of little boys can grow up."

"So," Chuck asked, shakily, "your Dad, um…"

"Taking my name in vain?" A cragged voice broke in and Bobby Singer walked towards the trio. Smiling at the young man, he nodded. "Bobby Singer. My boys got you OK?"

"Yes, sir," Chuck began only for Bobby to interrupt.

"I ain't no sir, boy. Name is Bobby."

"Well, Bobby," Chuck smiled weakly, "you raised two good boys to offer help to a total stranger like that. Their mother must be proud as well."

All three men stilled for a moment. Sam spoke first.

"Our mom, well, she and our other dad died when I was just a baby."

"House fire," Bobby said softly. "John Winchester saved my life in 'Nam. He had no family and his wife wasn't close to hers. I got married when Mary, that was John's wife, was expecting Sammy. He asked if we would take the boys – Mary was sure Sam was a boy even before he was born – if anything were to happen to them. There was a fire, started in Sam's nursery. John put the baby in Dean's arms and told him to run. Then he went back in for Mary and they never came out."

Sam had put an arm around his father's shoulders. "Dad's wife had died the month before. But since the will was in place and went uncontested, Dad brought us up here from Kansas and he adopted us."

"Town's being trying to play match-maker for him ever since. _You need a woman to help you raise those boys._" Dean's laugh-filled voice came out from under the hood.

"Well, Sam marrying and you about to has finally brought that to a stop," Bobby chuckled. "'Sides, I did fine. Sam has a solid education and is a good teacher. And you kept outta jail, didn't ya?"

Coming out from under the hood, Dean shot his adoptive father a dirty look. "I'm a pillar of the community, Dad."

"Now that we don't have to worry about irate fathers shooting him," Sam muttered.

"Nope," Bobby chuckled. "But your Jeannie just might take a baseball bat to his head if he doesn't do right by Lisa."

Slamming the hood, Dean nodded at Chuck. "Start 'er up."

Chuck slid into the driver's seat and turned the key. Immediately, the engine flared to life. Looking up at Dean, he grinned. "So, what do I owe you?"

"On the house," Dean grinned. "You ever make your way back through town, you can buy me a beer." Picking up his tool box, he headed back to the truck calling to his father over his shoulder. "You coming, Dad?"

Bobby nodded. "Sam, you and Jean coming to dinner tonight? Lisa said she'd bring her angel food cake."

"We'll be there, Dad." Sam smiled at Chuck. "Half day at school, but I have to get back with the snacks for the staff meeting. Take care."

Chuck put the car into gear and was about to pull out when he suddenly stopped. "Mr. Singer?" All three men turned back and looked at Chuck curiously. "You've been truly blessed, Mr. Singer."

"We know," they echoed together.

Driving away, Chuck almost drove off the road when a face appeared in the rearview mirror. "What the hell!" he squeaked.

"Wrong direction," the young man said seriously. "Hello, Chuck."

Puzzled, Chuck looked back before something clicked. "Castiel?"

Castiel nodded. "This can never be a part of the Gospel of Winchester, Chuck. But – _others _felt you had the right to know."

"They don't remember. You changed their lives."

"To a certain degree," Castiel agreed. "To the world, Dean and Sam Singer lost their parents in a fire and were adopted by an old family friend. They grew into good young men who serve their community and will grow old and gray with family around them. Bobby made a wonderful father. The good they did as hunters didn't vanish. But to the world, those were different people. The most Dean has ever gotten busted for was drag racing as a teenager. Sam still went to the University, but it was with every intent of coming home afterwards. He met a girl at college, but it was not Jessica. He didn't even go to Stanford. God wanted to reward them, so they have the life they should have been blessed with."

"But my stories…" Chuck argued.

"Are still thought to be flights of fancy by most of the world," Castiel interrupted. "By the time it is accepted as the truth, the Singers will be nothing but dust, and it will be considered a coincident that they had the same names. Their families will not even think it possible."

"But…" Chuck looked up again and then sighed. Castiel and his vessel had vanished once more.

As the prophet drove along, he wondered if there really had been a car accident on the highway. He wondered if his car had really just suddenly developed problems. He wondered…If he could work this into a book.

"Nah," Chuck muttered. "This would be too weird. Besides, the noble death, self-sacrifice – It plays so much better than small town school teachers and volunteer fire fighters."

But for the first time since the visions began, Chuck's heart felt lighter, as if a horrible burden had been lifted. Life? Life was good. And tomorrow was full of limitless possibilities.

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A/N - See what happens when they take too long a break between new episodes? Stories get stuck in my head - ON CHRISTMAS NO LESS - and won't leave me alone until I write them down. Oh, and it seems I am physically/mentally incapable of writing a death fics. Hope you enjoy. - CC


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